Friday the 13th Prequel
by LCas22
Summary: The story tracks the events that lead up to the beginning of the original movie Friday the 13th  1980 . It covers the origins of Jason, the deaths of Barry & Claudette, the fires and up to when Steve Cristy is getting ready to open the camp in 1979.
1. Jason's Prologue

**Chapter 1 - Jason's Prologue**

_1957_

The boy choked as water exited his esophagus. He breathed in heavily and began to cough. His eyes fluttered open. Darkness slowly took over the fading late afternoon sky. Tiny waves lapped along the sand where his feet laid. Jason lifted his head slowly.

He remembered being strangled by the murky water and the feel of the mud under his clawing fingers as he raked his way across the bottom of the lake. How had he gotten all the way over here? Was this a dream; or perhaps some form of purgatory? Where was everyone?

Jason pushed himself up to an upright position. Alone at the edge of Crystal Lake, he stared across the water towards the cluster of cabins where he had been staying. Lights decorated the windows of several of them; however not one person was in sight. The long dock he had jumped off of on a dare by another camper stood dormant and lonely. Had no one even noticed he was gone?

The setting sun began to terrify him. How would he ever get back to camp alone? A rustling noise behind him caused Jason to spin around abruptly.

"Someone there?" he whispered, almost too afraid to speak. A bird began to hum from somewhere in the forest. Jason's throat tightened and a single tear paraded down his face. He grasped his chest and began to cry before finding comfort next to a large pine tree that overhang into the water.

An ambulance and three police cars drove down the beaten path that exposed Camp Crystal Lake. Pamela Voorhees and camp director Miles Christy burst through the screen door that lead into the thick, summer air. Pamela marched up to an EMT and clutched his arms.

"My son is gone," she told them, "My son drowned."

The young man, looking startled attempted to comfort her while asking Miles for details.

"The boy's name is Jason Voorhees," Miles said, "We had been looking all this time. My counselors are all blue in the face. He went under the water. He was too far out -"

"They weren't watching him," Pamela cried, "It was too late by the time they saw him."

Police officers called for back up as they prepared to have their dive teams swarm the once peaceful lake scene.

Frantic and unable to think, Pamela was escorted back into one of the cabins where she sat in a numb silence.

Jason's attention was across the lake. The police sirens were decorating the night sky. People swarmed the beach area. Jason began to scream from his place across the lake.

"Here! Here!" he called, "Over here. Help me!" He waved his arms over his head.

The darkness worked against him. He was invisible to the help that loomed so close, but yet so far. He glanced back over his shoulder into the hovering wooded area. The massive trees seemed to try to grab him and pull him into their clutches. The heavy feeling in his chest returned. He stared at the edge of the lake where the sand met the water and took a step so that his bare toes caressed the muddy lake floor. He took a deep breath and walked in another few feet to where the water swallowed half of his body. Jason looked down and the panic sunk in. He quickly helped himself back to the dry land and began to cry.

By now the temperature was in the low 60's. Still in his bathing suit, he began to shiver and shake, trying to keep warm. Before long, the police cars had disappeared. Jason was alone.

He marched along the edge of the lake for as far as he could before a fallen tree and some overgrown pricker bushes blocked his path. He would have to go through the woods.

With a deep breath, Jason reluctantly marched toward what he hoped would turn into a path. Sticks, rocks and other parts of the uneven ground plagued his bare feet. From the middle of the woods it was hard to see the faint glow of the lights from the windows that proved to be his guide before.

Don't panic, he thought.

The windows of the cabin proved to be useless. They were no longer in his line of sight. Jason's heart raced as he prayed his senses were on and he was heading in the right direction. Horror stories of bears and other animals haunted his brain and made his mind wander. He continued to shiver as the summer air grew colder against his cold, skinny body. The boy's hope was fading as fast as the daylight had. Where was he?

A loud boom caused Jason to freeze. In the distance flames decorated the spaces in between the blackened silhouettes of the tree limbs. A massive fire broke out in front of him. He stared in disbelief and was unsure of what to do.

Flames continued to dance and the fire spread slightly. Jason cautiously approached the blaze, using caution with each step. When he was close enough to see what was going on, it was clear that one of the cabins was burning to the ground before his eyes.

A figure emerged from the building, engulfed in flames and began squirming in a panicked roll on the leaf covered ground.

Jason watched, open mouthed, as another figure covered in soot followed the dying victim with a drum of gasoline. She was a mass of black ash from head to toe; a demon. Her smile, he thought, was rather angelic and peaceful despite the chaotic scene that surrounded both of them.

"Jason," the demon bellowed.

He looked up, thinking she was talking to him. To his surprise, he continued to go unnoticed.

"Jason," she repeated in an inhumane way, "This is for Jason!"

The helpless person on the ground screamed as the demon emptied the gasoline onto his flame covered body.

Jason fled, launching himself behind a big tree some twenty yards back. The piercing screams lingered in his young mind as the soot covered demon finished what she came to do. The person on the ground was unmoving. The person on the ground was dead.

He watched intently as she cried a bellowing cry that was almost animalistic. He recognized the voice now.

"My sweet Jason," she cried, "Why did this happen? Why did you have to drown? Why did they make me do this?"

"Mom," Jason whispered to himself. Guilt filled his stomach and the tears came back. This was all his fault. It was his fault she was in pain. It was his fault she had to kill that person. Jason was ashamed. If he hadn't been afraid, he would already have been back at camp. She wouldn't have had to do this.

Mrs. Voorhees wept to herself, still covered in soot on her knees by the burning cabin. A nearby car caught fire as death continued to loom over the scene.

In the distance, sirens rang through the night air. Mrs. Voorhees' head seemed to snap back to reality. She looked at the cabin and the charcoaled body at her feet. A moment later, she ran.

Jason watched his mother disappear into the night. He knew it was the last time he would see her.

"Run Mommy," Jason whispered, "Don't let them catch you."

Within seconds, the car blew up. A flaming door handle cut through the air and connected with the young Jason's forehead. He felt the pain swell in his eyes before darkness sank in and he went unconscious.


	2. His Name Was Jason

**Chapter 2 – His Name Was Jason**

A year had passed. The residents in town tried to forget the horrific summer before. One boy had drowned. One counselor had died and Camp Crystal Lake had been shut down indefinitely. Moving forward would be difficult, but not impossible.

Tom Walters was the man who would attempt to bring the sullen area back to life. The space was too beautiful to waste. Crystal Lake was the perfect place to spend the summer.

There was a only a week left until the camp opened. Although the number of children signed up to attend didn't meet the goal he had in mind, it was still a step in the right direction.

Tom grabbed a clipboard from the desk in his office. He had created an attendance list of the counselors who were working for him. The clock on the wall signaled it was about time for a staff meeting.

The crew met by the edge of the lake. People were scattered about in small groups as Tom marched his way down toward the water. His employees stiffened up and gathered in a tight half circle as he approached them.

"Hey gang," he started, "We are a mere seven days from this place opening. Next Friday is when the campers move in. Did all of you pick up a copy of the ice breaker activities we have planned for that weekend?"

There were nods from the group of young adults.

"Good. Closer to the date we'll go over exactly where people will be in regards to that among other things."

"I used to run a check in table here the last two summers when I worked for the other guy," a shaggy haired blond boy said, " I wouldn't mind doing that again."

Tom nodded, "If no one else objects, that would be fine with me Eddie."

"You worked here when that boy drowned?" a short brown haired girl asked.

Eddie shrugged, "Yeah."

"Wow, and you wanted to come back after that?"

Before Eddie could answer, a boy put his arm around her waste and gave her a look as if to say, "shut up."

"You don't have to answer her," he told Eddie, " I'm Barry. This is Claudette."

They all shook hands.

"Since we're on the introductions," Tom stated, "Why don't we go about introducing one another. I met each of you in your interviews and briefly one other time. Do any of you know each other?"

"I worked here last summer, too," another boy said, " I'm Patrick."

Everyone took turns saying their name a little bit about themselves.

_Julie the medical student._

_Will the basketball player._

_Amy the aspiring teacher._

_Evan the cook._

The group was well rounded and ready for the summer.

"Now I've basically set up the camp in a very simple fashion," Tom explained, " The cabins to the right of the beach will be the male side. The cabins to the left will be the female side." He pointed to where several cabins were clustered together, "There is one cabin on each side with separate bedrooms, which is where the counselors will stay. The cabins surrounding it will be where your campers will all stay in one big open room. There are several sets of bunk beds scattered around most of them."

"Do the cabins have bathrooms?" Amy asked.

"There are two main washing areas, or out-houses."

Groans loomed through the crowd.

Tom laughed, "There are about ten showers in each out-house, as well as a plether of toilets and sinks."

"A plether?" Will chuckled.

"A plether." Tom repeated shaking his head.

"Does your cabin have it's own bathroom?" Barry asked, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Tom smirked back, "Don't worry about me, Barry."

A few people laughed.

"Now, with all seriousness, I don't want to live in the past but I feel the need to touch upon the incident from last year one time and then it will not be spoken of again."

Everyone quieted down and listened.

"What happened here was a tragic accident," Tom told them, "For those of you who had to go through that, I'm sorry. You're very brave to return after the unfortunate death of a child. I want to make sure that everyone is safe at all times. Don't ever abandon the children you are responsible for, even if they say they'll be fine. Kids will always give you that line. Do not pass off a responsibility to another camp counselor because you're not feeling up to it. That's the quickest way to get fired. You get fired, you don't get paid. Bottom line."

"What if there's an emergency?" Claudette asked, "Could you have someone cover your responsibility then?"

"Of course," Tom said, "But only if it's an emergency. If one of your campers falls and scrapes their leg and needs medical attention, you can radio me or someone else so one of us can bring the child to the nurse's station."

"So we all get radios?" Eddie asked.

"That's right. Beginning next Friday."

"Cool."

"Any other questions for tonight?"

The counselors exchanged glances and shook their heads.

"Okay then. You're free to have the rest of the night to yourselves. If you decide to go out on the town, make sure you're back here around midnight. I'm not going to babysit you guys, but I expect you to be ready in the morning for Day 2 of training. Today was just a warm up. Tomorrow we'll get started."

The group nodded and began to talk amongst themselves.

"What was the boy's name that drowned?" Claudette asked Eddie after Tom walked away.

"Claudette!" Barry said in an annoyed tone.

Patrick cut in before Eddie could answer, "Jason. His name was Jason."


	3. Camp Blood

**Chapter 3 - Camp Blood**

Evan and Will carried bags of marshmallows down to where everyone was gathering. A small fire burned close to the edge of the lake and people were getting cozy.

Eddie stared out into the lake.

"Hey daydreamer," Evan said, snapping his fingers, "Wake up."

"Where's the beer?" Barry asked, strumming a guitar.

Everyone looked at each other with shrugs.

"Party foul," Claudette said with a laugh.

"I'm not really in the drinking mood anyway," Eddie stated.

A few boo's came from the crowd. Eddie smiled and began playing with a few strands of grass.

"Hey Eddie," Amy said, "Did you know the boy well? The one who, you know, died here."

He shrugged, "A little, yeah."

"Was anyone at fault?"

"He went into the water alone. There was no lifeguard at that time of the day. Swimming was done. His group leader must have not realized he wandered off. I don't know every detail."

"By the time we heard him calling for help, he was so far out," Patrick chimed in, "He must have gotten tired."

Everyone was silent.

"That's so sad," Julie said.

"They never found him," Patrick explained, "No one ever found his body."

"So he's still in the lake?" Claudette asked. Her mouth hung open.

Amy and Julie turned their heads toward the water.

"No one really knows," Eddie said.

"Well, what if he made it?" Will asked.

Patrick shook his head, "Not a chance."

"Why not?"

"Will, Jason drowned. He was so far out. I'm sure if by some miracle he found his way to land then we wouldn't be having this conversation. He would have just come back to camp." There was a hint of agitation in his voice.

A sense of minor tension filled the silence. No one said anything. Crickets chirped in the still night.

Barry began to strum on his guitar. The girls picked up the tune to "Michael Row the Boat Ashore" and began to sing. Within a moment, everyone sang together.

When the song concluded, the collective mood was much more positive. People began talking and laughing.

Barry placed the guitar on the ground and motioned for Claudette to follow him away from the others. She smiled and the two of them made their way toward one of the cabins nearby.

Not much attention was paid to their exit. Barry looked over his shoulder as the group carried on without them. A few seconds later he and Claudette were making out and laughing together. They sloppily made their way up into a loft to continue.

A noise from somewhere in the cabin got their attention. The two of them froze and stopped to listen.

Barry shrugged it off, but Claudette pushed him away with a giggle.

"Someone's there," she said.

Barry stood up and noticed a person reaching the top stair of the loft. He laughed in a brief moment of embarrassment.

"We weren't doing anything. We were just messing ar-"

A large knife plunged through his stomach before the words could escape his mouth.

Claudette screamed as Barry clutched his midsection before collapsing to the wooden floorboards. A puddle of blood began to form.

The attacker now had their sights on Claudette. Helplessly, she looked for a place to find shelter or something to use as a weapon. With no avail, she through a few cardboard boxes in a last attempt to save her life. There was no chance. It was a lion and a gazelle. Claudette screamed in terror as the same knife that killed her boyfriend plunged into her repeatedly.

Barry and Claudette were dead.


	4. Cursed

**Chapter 4 - Cursed**

Ken Reynolds pounded the wooden stake into the ground with a sledge hammer. It was the fourteenth sign he had put up that afternoon.

"No trespassing," Ken said to himself, "I think they get the picture." He removed his police hat and wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking around at the abandoned back roads he was assigned to patrol.

It had been months since the murders at Camp Crystal Lake. The last attempt to establish some normalcy in the area after the boy's drowning the year before, followed immediately by a horrific fire that left one counselor dead, had failed. Two more innocent kids were dead and the case was on it's way to being cold. There was simply no evidence. Camp Blood, or so the locals were beginning to call it, had claimed another pair of lives.

The hair stood up on the back of Ken's neck as he began to get lost in his thoughts. The eerie section of town was consuming and it proved to be fuel for an otherwise inactive imagination. Ken had become a police officer in the small town for a reason. The pay was decent and most of all, the crime rate was low. People didn't get killed; or so he thought upon graduating from the academy five years before.

He returned to the police car and threw the hammer into the passenger seat. From a distance, a figure approached on the side of the road. Ken started the engine and closed in on the wanderer.

A lanky man in his late thirties pedaled a rusty, old bicycle in the direction of the vehicle. Ralph.

Ken leaned out his window. "Sir, this area is off limits."

Ralph hit the breaks on the bike and worked his way up to the window.

"I'm passing through. You shouldn't be out here."

"_You_ shouldn't be out here," Ken argued.

Ralph glared at the young cop, "Leave this place. It's cursed. Anyone who comes out here is cursed."

"So, what are _you_ doing out here?"

"God sent me out here. He sent me to warn you."  
>"Well let me warn you," Ken started, "If you don't leave the area-"<p>

"I'm just passing through," Ralph said again, "My message has been sent. You've been warned." He hopped back on his bike and began to pedal back in the direction he came from.

Ken sat in silence for a moment in the car, debating about whether or not to argue. After deciding against it, he drove slowly down the road past Ralph and headed to back toward the center of town.

"Did you get all them signs up?" The sheriff asked as Ken walked into the station.

Ken nodded, "I had a man preaching to me about how the place is cursed. Said he was a messenger from God there to warn me."

"Crazy Ralph, I bet ya. That bum is obsessed with the Crystal Lake murders. And the drowning."

"Weird."

"Don't let that get to you," the sheriff told him, " He tries to play police officer from time to time. If it happens again just tell him to butt out and go home."

Ken nodded.

"We might need you to take a drive down to the lake soon with somebody to put up signs by a few of the cabins. Maybe some police tape for some extra enforcement."

"Oh. I thought-" he stopped himself, "Okay boss."

"Is there a problem Reynolds?"

Ken shook his head, "No, sir. Not at all."

"Like I said, don't let Ralph and his stories get to you."

The water was still and the landscape grew dark. Stars began peeking through black sky accompanied by a crescent moon. A long dock stretched itself out into the lake that was laid out in front of a quaint little cabin.

Tires of a police car rolled to a halt as the dirt crunched beneath it. Ken stepped out of the passenger door, along side fellow officer, Oliver Quinn. Their doors slammed shut. Neither cop said a word as they walked over toward the first cabin.

Oliver held a sign no bigger than that of a standard piece of paper. Red words emerged from a black background that read: Keep Out. When they arrived at the front step, he began nailing it to the door.

Ken stood by silently, scanning the silent surroundings. All that could be heard were summer bugs chirping and an occasional frog from the water.

"Place gives you the creeps, doesn't it," Oliver laughed, revealing a set of perfect false teeth from under a graying moustache.

Ken shrugged and gave a nervous laugh.

"Don't worry, that's what you have that for." Oliver pointed towards the gun that remained dormant in the holster around his waste.

Ken glanced through the window of the cabin but couldn't see much of anything inside.

"I didn't want to ask the boss, but what's the point of all these signs? Do people actually want to come down here after all that's happened?"

"It's a precaution. Kids would have a field day sneaking in here, thinking they're badasses or whatever."

"Really?"

"What else is there to do in a small town, Ken? They're bored."

He shrugged again, "Are we ready to go?"

Oliver smiled, " Yeah, I suppose."

The men trudged back toward their vehicle. Oliver stopped halfway to the car and looked around.

"What?" Ken asked.

"Do you smell something?"

Ken breathed in hard through his nose. "Yeah."  
>"What's it smell like to you?"<p>

He sucked in some more air, "Campfire?"

Oliver gave a look in all directions. About a quarter of a mile beyond the cabin where they posted the sign, a faint trail of smoke could be seen creeping through the trees.

"Get on the radio," he instructed Ken.

Ken's eyes lit up as he called the station for backup. The two of them made their way to where the potential fire was burning.

"Oh we definitely have something," Oliver said, halfway out of breath from running.

Ken stayed by his side as they cut through the woods. Branches slapped him in the face and his ankle twisted slightly on the weed choked land beneath him.

By the time they reached the clearing, a massive collection of fires created an unholy ring of smoke and flames. Four cabins were ablaze now. One was almost completely burned while the others were not far behind. Ken looked over toward his partner who's eyes were like saucers as he stared in disbelief.

Ashes danced in the sky above the Hellish scene before them. The blaze was out of control.

Ken's face grew hot from the dancing flames that destroyed the cabins of Crystal Lake.

"Who could have done this?" Ken asked.

"Someone who wanted to make sure that Crystal Lake would never re-open again." Oliver looked at Ken, "This place _is_ cursed."


	5. Friday the 6th

**Chapter 5 – Friday the 6th**

_1979_

Steve Christy knew he looked like a fool for trying to resurrect the dead. Camp Crystal Lake was a taboo in town. The mention of the name of the place drew dirty looks from anyone familiar with it's past. Even the passing of two decades didn't help people in the area forget. The last real attempt to open the place was in 1958 when two counselors were murdered. History was not on his side.

Hard work was something Steve was more than familiar with. He had worked for everything he ever accomplished in his life. As far as he was concerned, this was just another challenge. Camp Crystal Lake deserved a fresh start.

Weeds decorated the exterior of one of the cabins that survived the events of the late 1950's. On his hands and knees, Steve ripped them from the ground and added them to a pile had had made. It had taken months of repairs to fix up the insides of the remaining cabins, but the hard part was finally over, and although Steve was broke at the moment, he was sure the number of kids signed up for a summer of fun would make him more than the sum he was forced to put down on the place.

Fortunately for him, outside of the locals, virtually everyone had forgotten about the chaos that gave the camp a bad name in the first place. That included the fresh, young counselors he had hired. The last thing they were worried about was something that happened before they were born, or right around that time anyway. They were ready to go.

Alice was a lovely girl. She would do anything he asked and more. She was pretty and petite, but was willing to get her hands dirty. She was definitely not a girly girl and Steve liked that about her. She knew how to break a sweat.

Bill was a genuine hard worker. He and Alice were the only two that showed up to help Steve with setting up the camp weeks in advance. He was strong and sharp, never cutting corners just to get done early.

Steve was sure the rest of his staff would fall into place nicely. They all seemed like good, down to earth people in their respective interviews. In a week's time, they would be put to the test.

He continued to pick weeds from around the house. The summer sun was beating on his bronze back, making the task miserable to complete. He had already come across a big, black snake earlier and hoped that was the last of surprises for the day.

"Hey Steve," a voice called.

Alice stood in a clearing from a path.

"What do you need Alice?"

"Bill and I were wondering if you needed us to paint the lifeguard stand today."

Steve pondered a moment and looked at his watch. The kids had worked from early in the morning and dinner time was approaching.

"No, why don't you two call it a day," he shouted back to her, "Go for a dip in the lake or something. We can save that for tomorrow."

"Okay, thanks!" Alice jogged out of sight down the path.

A figure loomed in the shadows of Camp Crystal Lake. The presence went unnoticed as the three "intruders" put their efforts into making the place lively again.

More were on their way, as Steve had said. As hard as it was to wait, patience was key. Camp Crystal Lake would never be a place of happiness and peace. It was a place of death. The tragedy of Jason had secured its fate. It didn't matter the year. It didn't matter the time that had past. All that mattered was that the presence of vengeance would be the only tradition that would be carried out on the camp grounds. The past would be nothing compared to what the future would hold.


End file.
